Liberty City Survivor
by Jose Philipe Mendola
Summary: Natural Selection, Has Come Home
1. Chapter 1

Liberty City Survivor  
'Natural Selection, Has Come Home.'  
  
Jose Philipe Mendola  
  
Legal Notice: I do not own the idea of Liberty City Survivor; it is a copyrighted commercial belonging to Rockstar and RockstarNorth. This is NOT a takeoff on the TV special; it is a death match between two poor old guys loaded up with grenade launchers and flamethrowers. This is based on the intent to amuse you, not to place sick thoughts into your head. May impair your ability to operate machinery. Keep out of reach of children, do not spray in eyes. Prolonged exposure to this fic may cause seizures. Use only as needed. Do not try this at home.  
  
Interesting facts: Unlike my other fics, this was not written in a notebook first. I am doing this off of the top of my head. Secondly, This idea was brought to my attention after one of my friends urged me to write this in science class. Never the less, I spent the whole period debating it with myself, finally passing the vote to do it. Lastly, the only thing fueling me this morning is a big ass cookie, a mix of Mountain Dew and Red Bull and some carrot sticks. Man, do I feel good.  
  
The game was simple. Find two bums, give them implements of destruction, set them loose at opposite ends of the city, and let them hunt each other down.  
  
Sure, the network had said Donald Love was CRAZY to want to do this, but those who lived in LC would LOVE it. Plus, he agreed to pay for any damages that the two marauding bums caused. Who could pass that up?  
  
With show time two minutes away, the camera crews were placed into position around the city.  
  
This episode would be taking place on Staunton Island. One contestant would begin close to the Military Barracks, the other in the park two and a half miles away. Not too far to run, and more than likely they would not go to far, but Love Media had camera trucks and portable cameras on standby just in case.  
  
Some might say that it was immoral to let two homeless people battle it out for food, but it was a damn funny sight to watch, and the masses LOVED the idea.  
  
When the prep horn went off, the cameras went on. The producer pointed to the cameraman who motioned to the lighting staff and in reply, pointed at the cameraman and nodded his head. The show was on.  
  
'Welcome back to another episode of Liberty City Survivor. This week, we are in the heart of Liberty City, Staunton Island itself. Next to me here, but not so close that I could smell him, today's contestant.'  
  
The camera pivots and shows a man wearing torn, faded blue jeans, a ripped and torn pleather jacket and a red bandanna holding back his dirty, greasy hair. He waves at the camera.  
  
'Now we're here behind the Stadium, home of the LC Cocks, and we're just about to gear up our contestant here. We're just waiting for the Weapons Supply van to show up, and we'll show you what our survivor here picks. In the meantime, let's go see what Mike is up to, and where he is. Mike?'  
  
The scene jumps to Mike who is in the middle of the par standing next to a very similarly looking man that is the obvious contestant.  
  
'Thanks Mark, we have here out other contestant. Our Weapons Supply van has already come and gone, so we'll show you what our other survivor has picked out today for weapons.'  
  
The screen fades to a very cheesy animation of two bums shooting at each other as a van drives by. The van runs over both of them, the back doors open, and the animation swings to the back so we can see what's in the back for weapons. The screen returns to normal, and a pair of hands are seen holding up various weapons.  
  
'Our second contestant has chosen today to carry around a Pistol. This automatic is accurate at close range, but not as affective at distances. A good side arm choice. His second weapon is an AK47. A Soviet made fully automatic weapon, it has very good accuracy and a very powerful hit rate. A very god choice as a primary weapon. His third weapon is a shotgun. A very nice compact weapon that packs a punch. Very accurate and powerful at close range, but not as accurate at long, but it still packs a punch. Lastly, out homeless friend is carrying around Molotov cocktails. This is a LC Survivor favorite among contestants. The winner keeps them and normally drinks them. Let's hope he wins first. Back to you Mark.'  
  
The screen switches back to mark just as the Weapons Van pulls away. Mark turns around to face the camera.  
  
'Our first contestant has just gotten his weapons and is already on his way. Let's see what he picked out today.'  
  
The same crappy, amusing animation is seen.  
  
'For a side arm out contestant has a 9mm Uzi. A powerful weapon that has good range, but not the best accuracy. His second weapon is also an AK47. Very good at distance and accuracy. His primary Weapon today is an M16. A US made automatic rifle that can shoot 150 rounds a minute, and has been known to go through a foot of solid concrete. His third weapon for the night is a flamethrower. All I'm going to say is that if this thing goes off, you don't want to be anywhere near it. And if contestant two drinks as much as we think he does, he's going to go up like a tissue. Survivor 1 is also toting Molotov cocktails, but has decided to bring grenades with him too. According to him, he was in Nam' and knows how to use them. Now let's follow them, and get on with this episode of Liberty City Survivor.'  
  
Mark crawls into the van and they take off. The screen cuts to mike and he is doing the same. The bums are off, loaded and ready for a fight.  
  
The first survivor runs his way through Liberty Campus, pushing through people to get to his foe. Shouts of encouragement are shouted from windows as frequent watchers of the program notice that they are running by their homes.  
  
Contestant number two slowly picks his way through the crowds of people in the park. It's fairly late, so there are many out. Mostly muggers and hookers, but they make way for the occasional businessman or woman out jogging. One mugger picks the pocket of a man in a tan trench coat and tan heat, and he is severely beaten for fighting back. The mugger walks away saying 'I'm going to eat ya'.' No one cares that there has been a death in the park.  
  
Contestant one had just crossed onto the street that would take him to the park. He checks his weapon and quickly makes for the park.  
  
Contestant two wastes his time urinating on a statue that is overlooking the road, not knowing how close the other survivor is. HE finishes, checks his shotgun and quietly makes how way to a small footbridge that is in the park. Taking over behind it, he waits for his attacker.  
  
The first survivor makes his way up to the entrance of the park. People around him scream at the knowing fact that he is on LC Survivor. If they did not give away his position, not much else would. Checking the sides of himself, and up and down the street, he slowly makes his way into the park.  
  
Contestant number two is urinating again. This time on the bridge. His weapon is lying on the ground next to him, safety off. A few people walk by him, one or two tossing him some change. He mumbles his thanks.  
  
Contestant number two sees his foe and readies his M16. The idea for this part of the game is to scare him into quitting, so he can blatantly shoot him in the middle of the street. He lifts his weapon and takes aim.  
  
Survivor two picks up his AK47 and looks around. Mostly everything is quiet, but there is a strange amount of people yelling something to his right. He turns his head and sees his competition aiming at him. He levels his AK and looses a few shots into the direction of the gunner. People nearby scream and flee for their lives. Contestant two ducks and fires back.  
  
'Shit.' The bum mumbled before he fell to one knee and fired back. The other contestant had started running north. Cameramen started following him, and others urged the first contestant to follow. Realizing how hungry he was, he obliged their remarks and ran after the other guy.  
  
A few hundred yards ahead of the other bum, contestant 2 stopped and stooped behind a tree, weapon in front of him. The other contestant crested the hill and they both shot wide. Bullets impacted both the ground and a few other people. They fell, spilling both blood and money. Making another break for it, contestant two headed for the street. Possibly he would be safe there.  
  
Contestant one shot back as he was fired upon. Not sure if he had injured the other guy, he equipped his flamethrower and came within a few yards of the tree ha had been behind. Letting loose a torrent of flaming gas, the tree was engulfed in flame, along with a few people that were nearby. They ran a short distance and burnt to a crisp. Contestant two looked around and saw his adversary running into traffic.  
  
'Scoodie-doo.' He said as he hurled a grenade in the direction if the fleeing bum.  
  
BWAM!  
  
An explosion rocked contestant two's world. The explosion, knocking a few around, impacted cars. One sped by, smoking black, another on fire. It raced down the street a little ways, exploding after a few feet. Looking behind him, contestant two saw that a man with a flamethrower was trailing him. This was far from good. IF he could hide somewhere and jump him, he might have a chance. He knew just the place, but it would be a miracle if he could get that far. He turned again and shot off a few rounds from his pistol. They impacted on the street nowhere close to his attackers feet. Running at full tilt, he headed for the main drag.  
  
The intent of the grenade was to kill him right there. Not really to decimate cars and people. Even now contestant one slipped a little in a pulled of goo that used to be some guy's face. Oh well. All's fair in love and- the battle for food. Now what was this guy doing? Shooting at him with a pistol? Now running down the street? Was he nuts? Oh well. He'd be worth the food once he was dead.  
  
There it was. The only chance he would have to finish this here and now. There was a small alleyway between the Happy Blimp and the ZAP. All he had to do was create a distraction, hide in the alley, and shoot that homeless bastard in the back when he ran by. Simple. Pulling a Molotov cocktail out of his jacket, he took a quick swig and lit the rag. It burned with ease, and once a small blaze was created, he tossed it in the general direction of contestant number 1.  
  
Fire erupted in front of Contestant number 1. People that were close to the bottle ran, some on fire. The entire street almost cleared of people, save some of the runners and muggers. Smoke poured down the street, making it impossible to see. Contestant number 1 ducked behind some boxes and a parked car for protection. He did not hear and shots, and once the fire and smoke had cleared, he risked sticking his head around the car. No one was there shooting at him. The street was empty. Stashing his flamethrower, he selected his Uzi and quietly snuck down the street. The Happy Blimp was in front of him, open and flooded with business as usual, but no rival bum. HE continued down the street, a few feet from a pane glass window of the Happy Blimp.  
  
Inside the Happy Blimp, a man had just gotten his order. A large turkey sub with the works. He scanned the restaurant for a seat. It was indeed busy, and he was lucky to find one near the door. Walking over to it, his attention was averted when two guys crashed through the front window. Both were armed, and they did not look like they were about to rob the place. One had an Uzi and the other had a pistol. People started yelling about LC Survivor when the cameramen came running in to film this scene. This was it, the actual cast from LC Survivor. But this was a faked program, right? The two guys began to shoot in the direction of one another. People jumped, screamed, died and ducked. The man that had just gotten his order was shot in the spine, not fatally.  
  
After the massacre, contestant number one had been the loser. The program was aired until the paramedics showed up and started carting people away and giving others CPR. Most were alive before the show went off, but one man who was being carted off wanted to be on camera. He was indeed heading to the hospital, but he claimed that he was now 'hooked and would watch it every day.' Another fan, another statistic to chalk up under wounded.  
  
The winner, Bum number 2, was brought to the local Marco Bistro's and ordered a loaf of French bread with a bottle of their highest proof alcohol. Content with his winning meal, he was transported back to his home, Staunton Island Docks, and was added to the cast list of LC Survivor.  
  
That night, ratings were in the top 5 for local TV shows, just above old re- runs of the old 80's comedy, Just The 5 Of Us, and just below the Made For TV Movie, 'Pirates In Men's Underwear.'  
  
Authors Note: Well, it was fun and it killed a few hours, now what do you think? Like it, hate it? I want to hear from you! All types of reviews will be accepted. Feel free to voice until the Cows come home. 


	2. Chapter 2

Liberty City Survivor

Chapter II

'Natural Selection, Has Come Home'

Jose Philipe Mendola

A Quick note: Unbelievably, it seems that I am ACTUALLY writing something and have the intent to post it…. If you are, in fact, reading this, it is because I actually went through with grinding out a chapter (again off the top of my head) at work and REALLY posted it this time. I am known to work for a few hours on a fic or chapter, become totally bored with it and just scrap it. There is, however, a good chance this will not be done and my typing this will have only killed time for me…. We'll see what happens.

Legal notice: I do not own the following ideas, locations or names. They are copyrighted material of Rockstar and Rockstar north. I am only borrowing these names and places in a desperate attempt to amuse you and myself.

'Welcome back to another exciting episode of Liberty City Survivor!' The host yelled as the title exploded onto the screen, the background a collage of explosions, weapons and loose ammunition rounds. 'I'm your host Mark, and with me is my co-host, Mike.'

'Good evening everyone!' Mike cheers, the camera panning over to another man holding a mic. 'Well, Mark, we all know HOW this going to end, but what we never know is how high the body count will be!'

'You got that right,' Mark agrees, sliding into the shot. 'And for any of you JUST tuning into our live satellite feed, here's a recap of our last match-'

The screen jumps back to the title in another explosion, with the heading 'Recap' at the bottom of the screen.

Immediately, a man wearing ill-fitting, ripped blue jeans, a torn, dirty leather jacket and a red bandanna is shown crouching behind several trash cans and a pile of boxes. The single light that illuminates a single part of a dark alley reveals that the man behind the boxes is toting a large caliber rifle. Because of the close proximity of the camera, he is signaling the operator to back up and keep quiet, all the while mumbling to himself about god-knows-what.

The screen splits and an identical looking man is shown creeping along what look like some rooftops, the camera and operator a few dozen paces behind. The night is clear, and even though the hobo on the roof is sticking to the shadows, it is clear that he has an Uzi in his hand and a few grenades hanging off his rope belt.

In the right display of the man hiding behind the trashcans, a box pops up and a close-up of him is shown, clearly cut from an earlier interview.

'I member'- big, BIG dogs. All night they just – just keep cuttin' glass. No sleep. Only thing I cun' do is drink till' the dogs stop with the racket. Corse', once them dogs is gone, the VOICES start. Aint' NO stopping them voices.'

The box fades and another box is brought up in the other view, the transient now peering over a ledge and contemplating a cigarette behind his ear.

'I like to put pudding in my pants. It feels- squishy.'

Back to a normal television view, the bum on the roof taps the bottom of his Uzi's magazine to ensure it is seated properly.

The shot cuts back to the bum in the alley, the cameraman now retreating quickly back down the alley. The bum he was following looks pleased and startles as if he has heard something.

Up on the roof, the bum with the Uzi has removed a grenade from the rope around his waist taken a lighter out of his pocket. Cigarette in his mouth, he strikes the lighter once and stops centimeters from the tip of the smoke. Instead, he replaces the lighter in his pocket and picks up the grenade. Looking over the edge of the roof once more, he pulls the pin, releases the spoon and drops the bomb.

Back on street level, the cameraman that was following the bum behind the trashcans gets a perfect shot of the alleyway from the sidewalk, fire, smoke and shrapnel flying out and into the pedestrians that were nearby.

Two pedestrians lay dead in spreading pools of blood. They have both dropped money in death. Most of the surviving bystanders run away screaming, two or three, however, casually stroll away from the scene.

The bum on the rooftop removes the lighter from his pocket and leans against the small retaining wall that makes up the roof. Striking the lighter, he takes a drag from the smoke. After resting for several seconds, he sits up on his knees and peers over the edge.

As soon as his face cleared the edge of the building, it exploded in a mist of blood, brain, bone, greasy hair and teeth. Milliseconds after the kill shot, a shot rings out.

Shown on screen now is the bum that was in the alley behind a dumpster holding a sniper rifle and a smoking chunk of his body armor missing on the chest.

'Ooh.' The bum mumbles 'Was him the right alien I was upposed' ta shoot?'

The shot jumps back to Mike and Mark, shaking their heads and smiling.

'That was one hell of a match. Hard to imagine that it lasted a whole hour while those two hunted each other, killing anyone that got in the way.' Mike laughs.

'And for those of you keeping track at home,' Mark adds 'a total of 5 civilians killed last night, 17 wounded.'

'Well,' Kike shouts excitedly, 'we all know how the game is played, so let's get – tonight- started!'

Again, the Liberty City Survivor logo explodes onto the screen and the voice over announces:

'Liberty City Survivor! The ONLY show that takes recently poor, old guys and equips them with GRENADE LAUNCHERS and FLAME THROWERS and let them HUNT EACH OTHER DOWN. LIBERTY CITY SURVIVOR. Natural Selection Has Come Home.'

The screen now shows one of tonight's contestants that look very much like the last survivors that were participating. Ill fitting, ripped and dirty blue jeans, torn up leather jacket and red bandanna, standing outside of an unmarked white van.

'And here's tonight's first contestant.' Mark calls over his mic. 'We've dropped him off not far from Bitchin' Dog food, and he's about to select his weapons for the night.'

The cameraman moves closer to the bum as he reaches into the van and into the weapons cache.

The bum is seen hefting a rocket launcher, and then replacing it. He picks up an M16 and does the same thing. He decides on a simple pistol and slips it into a dusty pocket. Doing the same thing with a few grenades, he finally picks up an AK-47 and shoulders it.

'All set.' He mumbles.

The shot jumps to the other bum in tonight's game, dressed exactly the same.

'And here's the other contestant tonight.' Mike proclaims 'Tonight, we have him starting out not far from Ammu-nation. We're standing by here as we wait for the weapons van to show up. While we wait, here are a few words for our sponsors.'

The usual lineup of commercials air, complete with ads for , Bitchin' Dog Food, Rusty Brown Ring Donuts (Now opening a new location in Pike Creek) as well as everything Pogo The Monkey.

When the show returns back to live air, the Weapons van has come and gone for the second contestant. A clip is shown of him falling into the fan and stumbling out with a shotgun, an Uzi and a Rocket Launcher.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Mark begins 'our game tonight is underway. Take care if going outside and you are in the Portland area. You never know what is going to happen. Now let's go to Tyco in the studio for an Island Overview.'

Tyco sits in front of rows and rows of computers underneath a large screen that looks like it was taken out of NORAD.

'Good evening folks, Tyco here to give you an overview of the map, as well as some of the hazards our players might encounter tonight.'

A Simulated screen is brought up, and on it is the general area the two bums were released.

'Most notably, right away,' Tyco begins 'Is that both contestants have been let loose not far from the Mafia Territory. Any of you living in Portland will agree that these guys have a short temper, and tend to shoot first and ask questions later. Recent police reports give them Shotguns, M16s and grenades in their inventory. South East of that area, the triads are still fighting the Mafia for control of the downtown district. It's not common, on the way to the Red Lights district, to see SOMEONE getting their ass beat to death on the side of the road by the mob or the Triads. Police claim the Triads wage war with auto-pistols, hand to hand weapons and the occasional Sniper Attacks. This information is good to keep in mind, as both groups become uneasy when ANYONE is seen carrying a piece in the neighborhood. Perhaps this is the reason why the cops tend to deviate from patrols in those districts. Any fighting going on down by the docks might set the local dock workers off, as we have seen that usually involves a union hall or two emptying out and very burly, very gay men bitch slapping everything in sight. I'd like to take a moment that we might remember a cameraman that fell in the line of duty in that area.' A picture of a guy holding a TV camera and smiling is shown, as well as a birth date and a date that only goes back 7 days. 'Richard Malone, you will be sorely missed. It's always a shame when a partner is bitch slapped to death in the line of duty.'

Tyco is shown again in the ready room and looking pleased with himself.

'That's all from us up here, guys! Good luck out there!'

Mike and Mark and back into frame and both have a finger in an ear, listening to some kind of update.

'It seems already,' Mike starts 'That we have had some action. We'll take you now to the bum we dropped off near Bitchin' Dog Food.'

The new shot is out the front window of a moving vehicle. Understandably, the camera bounces around a bit as the operator attempts to perfect the focus. The camera operator is in a station van and they are filming a beat up looking Stallion as it swerves all over the road.

'What's happened here is,' The announcer begins 'the bum we dropped off outside the Dog Food Company immediately held up a woman driving that car in front of us and got in. He is now speeding toward- well, SOMETHING. We're going to do what we can to follow him, but if he keeps – YOW!'

The bum they were following swerved violently in the Stallion, into oncoming traffic. The Pony that was now facing a speeding Stallion flashed it lights and honked the horn. When the bum did not swerve, the Pony did. The bulk of the van driving up on the sidewalk blew one of it's tires and caused something under it to come lose and skid across the street, sending up a shower of sparks.

When the Pony jumped the curb, several things happened at once. Two pedestrians jumped out of the way, one onto the grass and one into the street where he was promptly flattened by a passing car (spilling money everywhere), and the van hit a fire hydrant, causing it to get knocked out of the ground and shoot water close to 25 feet high.

'Wow!' the announcer yelled 'Did you get a shot of that?'

The shot jumped back to Mike and Mark, who were also viewing the action on a monitor.

'Can you confirm for us where this guy is heading?' Mark asked.

'We're just now passing the bus terminal, heading in the direction of the Greasy Spoon Diner. If you're watching this and you're out for dinner tonight, be sure you get outside and show your love for the number one show on TV!'

'We're getting word now,' Mike jumped in 'that the other contestant is now on the move. It seems that he's just sobered up a bit and realized where he was and what he's doing. Let's go to the camera.'

The bum that was dropped off outside Ammu-Nation is stumbling through the alley, swinging the pistol wildly at everything that looks like a target. A group of thugs are standing at the entrance to the alley and turn to look at who or what is swaggering toward them as all the noise he is making gets closer to them.

All three thugs are wearing black hoodies and blue/black/gray camo print pants. One taps the other two on the shoulder and points at what looks like an easy target to roll. They begin walking toward the bum.

Mumbling something that sounds beyond gibberish, once the thugs got close, the waved a pistol at them and they scattered without incident.

'That could have been a close one.' The announcer said.

Continuing on his stagger, the bum crossed the street and the small park that divided Uptown from the Red Lights District.

Finding himself on a corner that would normally be bathed in the blood of both Triad and Mafia members, the contestant turned himself toward a store of questionable morals.

'This seems to happen a lot on Portland Island,' Mark said as the bum entered the store. 'The last time one of them took too long in here, the store was turned into a crater by creative use of Flamethrowers and grenades.'

The camera operator followed the bum into Woody's Smut Shack and Dildo Emporium and found the bum browsing the racks of magazines.

Still mumbling to himself, the bum pulled a bottle of clear liquid out of his pocket and took a swig.

'Let's jump back to the other contestant.' Mike said as the scene jumped to a car wrapped around a light post. 'What the hell did we miss this time?'

'Nothing as bad as it looks, Mike and Mark.' The Announcer said as the cars door was opened from the inside and the bum crawled out 'What happened was someone driving a Patriot matched his speed and just ran him off the road. I'm hearing gunfire from the direction the Patriot went, can either of you confirm that the other contestant was driving?'

'Certainly not OUR man.' Mike said, the camera switching to the bum that was looking at the newest edition of 'El Burro Monthly'.

'Hold on a sec, Mike-' Mark began 'I'm getting word from Tyco now on the situation. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are going live again to Tyco.'

'This just in Kids,' Tyco began, again in front of his NORAD looking setup 'Those reports we've been getting all week about a possible homicidal maniac loose in the city are starting to fill out, as the scanner just announced that the LCPD is on its way to a shooting in progress. One guy, green pants, dark jacket armed to the teeth last seen driving a blue Patriot. Let's go ahead and add THAT to our list of hazards as well, Mystery maniac with a gun.'

'What the fuck is wrong with this city?' Mike asked as the cameras switched again back to them.

'Who cares?' Mark responded with a laugh 'It makes for good TV. Let's get back to the Red Lights-'

Before the camera had gone back to the feed in the Uptown area, the camera operator was running after the bum, already half a black ahead of the crew.

'Well, it's not what we were really expecting, but we've got the contestant here running from the store with the owner on his ass. It seems that he's lifted a copy of 'El Burro Monthly' as well as a copy of 'Shaved Grannies'.'

'You son of a bitch!' The owner was yelling up the street 'I swear to god, I'm going to fucking GUT you when I get a hold of you!'

As the Bum ran across the street, he was barely missed by a badly damaged passing car. Diving out of the way, the fleeing bum drew his Uzi and pointed it at the store owner who had closed the distance between them.

Now faced with a loaded Uzi, the store keeper threw his hands above his head, froze in place for a few seconds and took off running in the opposite direction.

The bum with the drawn Uzi spun around, albeit sloppily, and faced the car that had almost run him over, now idling half on the street, half in the road.

'I think-' the announcer with the camera operator began as they set up for a great shot along the side of the road 'things are about to get ugly.'

Out of the drivers' side door of the ruined car, gunfire erupted into the night sky. 20-30 rounds pierced the night sky, the muzzle flashes reflecting off the nearby windows. The sound, almost like giant zipper, echoed up and down the street. Many pedestrians ran for cover.

The bum that was in the street took cover behind a mailbox and leveled his Uzi at the car and fired.

All 32 rounds peppered the car, shattering windows, blowing out a tire and damaging nearby cars as well as the row of stores behind where the car was.

As the bum reloaded, his opponent dove out of the car and opened up on the general area of the mailbox with an AK-47.

As all of this was going on, the two cameramen and the announcers that were with them were making play by play calls.

Chunks of asphalt, clumps of dirt and everything else the 7.62 rounds hit came up in chunks. 30 rounds rattled through the AK-47 as not one round came close to hitting it's mark.

The bum behind the mailbox, now reloaded, pulled the pin on a grenade and rolled it toward his opponent. Having seen it coming, the other bum kicked it away, causing it to roll under a nearby black Sentinel that was parked along the road.

FA-BWOOM!

The grenade detonated, the force of the explosion throwing the car into air in a giant fireball and flipping it, causing it to land on it's roof.

The explosion was so massive that it caused both bums to fall to their faces on the pavement. Several people that were within 50 feet of the car were liquidated, turned into puddles of blood and pulp. Only a few wads of cash remained.

'Fuck!' The announcer yelled into his malfunctioning mic. He was pulling and broadcasting now a lot of static and feedback. 'Anyone in the Downtown area is going to want to stay clear for the next few hours! This place is a god damned WARZONE!'

'I think we saw that explosion from the studios here.' Mike said.

The camera operator righted himself and panned over the carnage that was the Red Light District. A burning wreck of a car, scattered dead bodies, people fleeing in every direction and spent shell casings littered the ground, the flames reflections dancing on the brass.

The Bum with the Uzi jumped up and leveled the auto pistol at his opponent.

The bum with the AK, still prone on the ground, swung his weapon around and pointed it at the other bum.

Two very similar things happened as both pulled their triggers: Nothing.

'Now anyone with a working knowledge of weapons,' one of the announcers began 'will know that a weapon with a busted gas tube will not operate.' The bum with the bent AK-47 threw it aside and got to his feet. 'And that a weapon with a broken- EVERYTHING will not work either.'

The bolt and firing assembly fell out of the back of the Uzi, clattering to the ground.

40 feet behind the bum with the busted Uzi, a Rocket Launcher was on the ground.

Seizing a loose side mirror from the ground nearby, he picked it up and hurled it at the bum with the broken Ak-47. The same Bum who was now un-holstering his shotgun.

The bum with the shotgun must have seen a grenade flying at him, as he dove left and rolled behind a damaged car.

The bum that was on the ground got up and ran for the rocket launcher. Reaching it, he picked it up, flipped off the safety and turned to point it at his opponent.

The bum with the Shotgun was right behind him, jamming the muzzle into his chest when he had turned. He said something to the degree of:

'Scoodie-doo.'

And jacked a round into the chamber.

Mike and Mark stared with rigid excitement at their monitor.

All of the Liberty City Survivor fans in the nearby area had come out to the streets, or had their heads out of their windows watching the game. The street had gone from sounds of a city at night, to war zone, to deathly quiet in no time at all.

No one was prepared for how the end of the match went.

REE-E-E-E-E-E-E-ECH!

A black car fishtailed around the corner and parked itself sideways in the street, only a few feet from the contestants.

A black Sentinel, tires still smoking, sat in the road where it had just came to a stop. Both bums stared at it, not sure how to react.

All four doors opened and 4 men in black suits stepped out all armed to some degree. Two had a shotgun, one an M16 and the other an auto pistol.

'What is dis supposed to be, ah?' The driver shouted 'You think you can shoot up our neighborhood and get AWAY with it?'

'Ey, Vinny!' one of the soldiers shouted, noticing the camera 'I think dis is the, whatchacallit? Liberty City Survivor?'

'Wha?' The driver said out loud 'No foolin'? Hi Ma!' he said, waving to the camera 'git a load'a me! I'm on TV!'

'Huh?' one of the bums muttered.

'You stoopid gavones!' one of the soldiers yelled 'Shootin' up OUR turf!'

All four Mafia soldiers opened fire of the two bums, taking them down in a hail of hot lead and jacketed rounds.

Once the smoke cleared and the soldiers waved a few more times at the cameras, the piled back into the car and took off, up the hill further into Mafia territory.

'And that seems to be tonight's game.' Mike said. 'We hope you'll join us next week, when our next contestants take on Liberty City Survivor in the Airport District.'

'Good night everyone, and remember, if the shells start flyin','

'Start Duckin'. This is Mark.'

'And Mike. Have a nice night, Liberty City.'


	3. Chapter 3

Liberty City Survivor

Natural Selection, Has Come Home

Jose Philipe Mendola

Legal Notice: I am still not in possession of the rights of any of the places or locations used in this fic. They are copyrighted material of Rockstar and RockstarNorth. The only purpose of this fic is to amuse you and me.

Authors note: Two chapters in two days? Wow, it's almost like I was back in high School… even my story lines still suck! This chapter also has the potential to be written or started, consume several hours of my time and end up getting scrapped. If you are reading this, it means that I was either feeling SO creative and this fell out of my head (Again, this was NOT on paper first), or I was SO bored that I went ahead and did this anyway. Enjoy!

'Welcome back to another exciting episode of Liberty City Survivor!' The host yelled as the title exploded onto the screen, the background a collage of explosions, weapons and loose ammunition rounds. 'I'm your host Mark, and with me is my co-host, Mike.'

Mike coughs and hacks, sounding wet and phlegm-y.

'Ugh.' Mike groans 'I don't feel well.'

Mark looks over to his partner and grimaces.

'I'm sorry to hear that, buddy, but we DO have a show to take care of tonight. We'll be returning to a favorite location, and this promises to be a busy night!'

'I'm sure I'll make it, but it sucks that I've come down with whatever the hell this is as fast as I did.'

'Tonight we'll be broadcasting live from Staunton Island in the very busy public park. It being a Friday-'

'There's going to be a lot of people out tonight.' Mike finishes with a sneeze.

'Could not have said it better myself.' Mark agrees. 'Tonight is going to be a bit of an interesting event, as you'll see by the footage shot this afternoon, our contestants have already been 'enhanced' by our street team.'

The shot cuts away from Mike and Mark and now shows two bums, dressed in very familiar rags, being handed a bottle of Vodka apiece.

'THIS should set my mind right.' One of the bums slurred.

'Well, it's not paint thinner, and I can't sniff it up,' the other one began 'but it might be a nice change of pace.'

Both bums began drinking from the bottles, not stopping until they were finished.

'Look at them go.' Mark observes, sounding impressed. 'I wonder how they are holding up right, and where.'

'I think I'm dying.' Mike says weakly.

'Let's go to Tyco in the operations room and get a rundown of tonight match. Tyco?'

Tyco is now in picture, sitting in front of his NORAD-like command post. His desk, visible behind him, is buried under stacks of papers, coffee cups and empty bottles of soda.

'Good evening fans, Tyco here!' He cheers from his desk 'Tonight is going to be a great match! We know enough about the contestants already to pretend that we care, so let's get right to the Hazard report for tonight. A map is shown in shot now; the general Central City is seen. 'Now right here we have the centrally located public park.' The park is highlighted on the map and flashes a few times. 'this is where we plan on having much of our action take place, so all of you Liberty City Survivor fans out there, be sure you can get a good view. Now, South East of the park is a building that has been under construction for a while now. As we all know, the Columbian cartel is deeply entrenched in that area, a bit on the ironic side, as their territory extends to the hospital. If you remember several months ago, one of our contestants had planned on swinging by there in hopes of getting patched up, but the cartel cut him off and he ended up in a concrete foundation.'

'A classic match.' Mark chimed in.

'Now South East of that area, the Yakuza have set up operations. No need to go into how they take to anyone armed near their properties. We've yet to see them interact with us so far, but there's always hope. And finally, spread out over the area between the Cartel and Yakuza, claiming territory close to the Liberty City Cocks Stadium, The Yardies.'

'When was the last time we heard from them?' Mark asked.

'It's been relatively quiet on the Yardi front,' Tyco said 'the locals' chalk this up to low recruitment rate and a shortage of illegal weapons begin brought in for anyone but the Cartel. We have yet to confirm this, but it seems like a good enough reason to me.'

'Anything else we should know about tonight?' Mark asked.

'Only that those reports of some homicidal maniac on the loose are still coming in more and more often each day. Largely placed in the Portland Island area, there have been a few sightings of this mystery man here on Staunton. There have been no Survivor related incidents yet, but as always, we want to make sure our fans know of the possible dangers before going out.'

'Right you are, Tyco.' Mark said 'Anything to add before we begin, Mike?'

'I think I'm gonna hurl.' Mike groaned, slipping out of the camera shot.

'Mike will be back in a moment or two folks, while we are waiting, here are a few words from our sponsors.'

The very familiar parade of advertisements made their play on air. Covered was Bitchin' Dog Food, , a New Pogo the Monkey Game for the Gamestation III that would be released next week and a new TV spot for The Happy Blimp sub shop franchise.

After the slurry of advertising, the Liberty City Survivor logo made its familiar explosion back onto the screen and Mark was seen again, a very ill looking Mike next to him.

'Welcome back, Fans. We're just moments away from starting, and I just can not wait!' Mark cheered.

'I feel like shit.' Mike announced.

'You LOOK like shit, buddy. Now let's get started!'

One of the bums was starting outside of a tall building on the East end of the park. The consigner at the buildings door looked ready to shoo the bum away should he get too close. The bum took a grenade out of his pocket and looked it over. When he opened his jacket to replace it, an Uzi was seen on his hip, as well as a pistol.

Elsewhere, the other contestant was outside of a very popular internet café. He was openly inspecting his shotgun, pedestrians walking by paying him no mind. Loading 7 rounds into the chamber and racking a round, he strapped the weapon to his back and began walking West, the camera and announcer not far behind him.

The bum outside the park got his cue to move and set out across the street, not bothering to wait on traffic. A large, teal Miabatsu Monstrosity skidded to a halt only a few feet from him. The driver leaned out the window and began shouting at the bum.

'I got to get to work!'

The bum responded by flashing his Uzi at the driver. Continuing across the street, the bum looked around as if deciding which way to go.

Not far away, the bum with the shotgun had stopped in an alley to relieve himself.

'This spot will look familiar to ANYONE that watches Survivor on a daily basis,' the announcer points out 'This alley is right outside of Ammu-Nation.'

'Anyone in that area,' Mark begins 'has a good chance to get on TV now and in a safe fashion.'

'Right you are,' the announcer continues as the bum is now exiting the alley 'it seems we have our first fan tonight coming by to wish our contestant good luck.'

'Hey! Hey man, hey!' A man wearing a tan trench coat and matching hat approaches the bum as he exit the alley 'the cameras, this is Liberty City Survivor, right?'

'I sexed a biscuit once.' The bum replies.

'Here,' the fan says, not at all deterred 'I want you to have this.'

The man reaches into his coat and produces a pistol. He hands it over to the bum who looks it over.

'Can I eat it?' he asks.

'Oh man, I LOVE this show! LIBERTY CITY COCKS RULE!'

'By the looks of things,' Mark says 'it seems our contestant has received one of the million 9mm pistols registered here in Liberty City. Let's hope our contestant puts it to good use.'

The bum with the new pistol jogs up the street in the direction of the park, crashing into the occasional pedestrian and knocking a few of them over.

Off in the distance, gun fire is heard.

Before Mark can question it, and Mike complain about being sick, the camera cuts back to the other bum who is in the public bathroom in the park, shooting the hell out of an unoccupied stall. While he is shouting something lost over the noise, the announcer who is standing by outside explains how the bum had run over to the park, crossed a footbridge and ran straight for the bathroom. Before the camera operator could get in, the bum had started yelling about 'Demons!' and began firing wildly, wounding one civilian that was in the stall next to the one that was begin efficiently turned into Swiss cheese.

Now crawling out of the neighboring stall, the pedestrian with a bleeding hole in his leg was all smiles to see the camera crew.

'Oh man, I was so worried that it was the cartel that had found me.' Despite the wound, he struggled to his feet, threw both fists into the air over his head and cheered 'I Love this show!' before he limped past the camera crew and out into the park.

After the bum had emptied an entire magazine into the stall, he reloaded and turned to face the mirror.

From outside, a single gunshot was heard.

The bum ignored it and moved closer to the mirror, attempting to sneak up on it.

In order not to miss anything, the scene switched back to the other bum who was still hustling toward the park. The announcer said that he had heard the shots and was rushing toward them, albeit in a bit of a staggering fashion.

The bum in the public bathroom inspected his reflection in the mirror closely through the graffiti that covered just about every surface. Most prominent, in bright pink paint was sprayed across the mirror, 'Mirrors are more fun that television'.

'We're going to take a short break,' Mark began 'and when we come back, we'll have fresh action for you.'

Mike seemed to vomit his reply off-screen.

More ads ran that promoted a few new movies that were coming to the Liberty City Multiplex this weekend, a sale going on at some department store, the Supermarket in Portland reopened after it's refurbishment and an add for a private Pest Control based out of Pike Creek.

'And we're back!' Mark called as he and a very gray looking Mike were seen at their posts. 'We'll take you back now to the action at hand.'

The bum that was in the public bathroom exited and began up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, three members of the Columbian Cartel were walking away from the body of the same man that was wounded in the bathroom. No one in the area seemed to notice the dead body, or the fact he had just been murdered in public.

Stepping over the corpse, the bum and camera crew headed farther into the park.

The other bum, now just outside of the park, was peering over the brick wall that surrounded the park, looking for his opponent, or someone selling liquor.

'All the colors of the rainbow.' The bum said to no one in particular 'Like motor oil mixed into mud. Everywhere I look hammers and swimming pools. It's happening again. This has all happened before.'

'Hey! Hey, look!' Someone else had recognized the camera crew trailing the bum and came running over. An overweight man in a Hawaiian shirt was followed close behind by his equally large wife, wearing a dark blue jacket. 'Here! Take this!' the man handed the bum a green bottle filled with liquid, a rag jammed into the mouth.

'Huh? Wazza?' The bum looked the bottle over.

'Oh man, this is great! We LOVE Liberty City Survivor!' the man bellowed.

'Watch it every night.' His wife agreed.

'It's always nice to see the fans supporting us.' Mark said.

'I fully agree.' Mike groaned.

The bum had pulled the rag out of the mouth of the bottle and began drinking its contents.

'Sure. Whatever.' The fan said laughing.

'Oh, Ry-yan!' the woman was shouting happily 'Just the otha day you were makin' those in the ga-rage, saying how you hoped you'd get to see the Surviovoas! And look at that! You got to see them, AND give them a weapon! I wish I had brought my flamethrowa with me!'

'Next time darling, next time.' The man responded. 'Thank you Love Media! Keep up the good work!'

POW!

A clump of ground jumped into the air near the bums' feet. The two fans ran and the bum that was bow being shot at dove behind a nearby tree.

More rounds impacted the ground near the tree, some hitting the tree itself.

'It's the ants again!' the bum shouted as he pulled his shotgun off his back and attempted to peer around the tree.

More rounds impacted the earth around him, making it impossible to get a prolonged look for more than a few seconds.

'Let's check in on our other contestant!' Mark shouted.

The cameras changed and the new shot revealed the other contestant inside a room, shooting out of the window with a high caliber sniper rifle.

'Where did he get that?' Mike asked.

'Before he entered this oddly placed house here in the park,' the announcer began 'he was approached by a fan and handed this rifle, along with the best of luck and a bottle of booze.'

'Well, no one can say our fans are stupid.' Mark added. 'So how are things looking now?'

'From his position, he has a clear view of where his opponent is and what he is hiding behind. I think that if he had NOT already drunk the bottle of cheap vodka, that first shot would have been a kill shot.'

'có một con mèo lớn trong quần của tôi!' the bum yelled as he continued to open fire on the tree.

'What was that?' Mike asked

'Sounded like Vietnamese.' The announcer said, uncertain.

'Why the fuck would he know that?' Mark asked, not at all quietly.

Back to the bum that was taking cover behind the tree, not far away, a collection of fans had gathered. They were cheering and shouting advice.

'Take a bullet, you worthless piece of trash!'

'Charge! Charge!'

'Killer bees!'

The bum, his back to the tree, had both hands over his ears and was yelling something about 'too many voices!'

One of the fans finally did something useful and tossed the cowering bum an AK-47. The bum picked it up and immediately checked the magazine for rounds. Finding a full 30 rounds, he leaned out from behind the tree and began firing wildly at the house in front of him.

Rounds coming from the house ceased long enough for the bum to get up and run toward the house. After a few hundred feet, he took cover behind the concrete wall that surrounded the nearby tennis courts.

Blind firing at the window, the bum inside with the rifle fell back from the window as rounds impacted above him, raining plaster and bits of wood down onto him.

The camera crew outside followed the bum as he rushed the door of the house and crashed inside.

Incredibly, the family that lived there, in the house that was strangely located in the park, was watching Liberty City Survivor, either far too elated that the game had come to them or too scared to leave. They looked up from the TV as the camera crew came in their door and followed the bum as he rolled behind every chair and couch like he was an ex-commando.

The family cheered and the woman in the house said she was going to get the husband's wife's gun in hopes that someone would take it from her and use it, live on television.

The camera crew upstairs showed the bum in the bedroom now facing the door, his Uzi trained on the door. The camera crew moved back against another wall as the sound of someone pounding up the stairs drew closer.

Outside, the camera crew that had been following the bum that rushed the house took up a position that offered a good view of the window that had been used for target practice. Inside, shouting was heard and a very loud blast.

As soon as the shot was fired, a body sailed backwards out of the window, glass and splintered wood right behind it.

Arcing perfectly, the body lost momentum at just the right time that it crashed atop the Landstalker that was parked outside, crushing the roof into itself.

'Holy shit!' Mike and Mark yelled in unison.

The bum that had not gone through the window appeared at the man-sized hole that was now in the wall and looked down at his adversary. For no reason in particular, he pulled out his gift pistol and emptied the clip into the body of his ex opponent and the vehicle he had crashed through.

'What an incredible end to tonight's game.' The commentator said as the family appeared behind the bum and began waving to the camera 'We've seen a lot of crazy things, but never an ending like that. Mike, Mark, I'll give it back to you.'

'You saw it here first, Liberty City. Tonight's champion and tonight's game. We hope you'll join us next time for another episode of Liberty City Survivor. I'm your host Mark,'

'And I'm sick as hell.'

'Until next time, Liberty City. When the shells start flyin,'

'Start duckin'.'


End file.
